


sunrise

by creabimus



Category: The Lorien Legacies - All Media Types, The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: F/F, F/M, post tfo10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creabimus/pseuds/creabimus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overcast skies make for good conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sunrise

It isn’t until the intimacy fades away that Marina recalls the ghost of Eight’s fingers across her own, splaying out as if to touch all of her, as if to remember how the skin stitches itself together. Adelina had taught her to hate the shape and force which hands brought, yet Eight always had a way of bringing life to the places where it had previously left.

They always had that in common. Just in different ways.

Brick digs into her back not forcefully, and her skin soaks in the cool which the scattering grays across the baby blue sky bring. It isn’t until the greens grow brilliant she recalls his eyes; it isn’t until her lips part she remembers the feel of his own against her skin.

“Marina?”

Six’s voice grows too distant, now. Six’s jaw hardens when Marina looks up at her, yet the swirling of her eyes remind her no longer of the hurricane-storms she’d been enamored by the first time she saw her.

“Hi, Six.” And Marina’s smiling, and Six is almost mirroring the action but not quite. “Are you okay?” And Marina thinks Six should be asking the question, not her, but the erosion of time causes even stone to fade away.

Six doesn’t say anything at first. Her body moves so she sits next to Marina, their shoulders not quite touching, and Marina recalls something ancient about her posture.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Marina murmurs, “not to know.”

Six looks at her. She raises an eyebrow. Her lips paint themselves into something familiar, yet all Marina can do is smile. She isn’t sure what else to do (and now she wonders how Eight did it).

Six’s throat moves. Her eyes fall towards the concrete. Her back curves so her shoulder hunch forward. And Marina’s heart aches something familiar at the sight (perhaps because she’s done the same).

“I don’t…” Her eyes close. “I can’t do this. Be there. With them.”

Marina shifts so her shoulder brushes against Six’s. The grays curl around the blue overhead, threatening something sinister but lacking the follow-through. “I’m sorry,” because _I know_ feels shallow and _I can help_ feels hollow.

Six leans into the touch, and the warmth follows from Six’s body to Marina’s, or perhaps it’s the other way around. “I’m here for you,” Marina adds. Her hand inches into the space between the two so that they might occupy the same space. The tips of Six’s fingers brush against the back of Marina’s hand. She isn’t Eight, Marina knows, but in time the action will be familiar.

“Thanks,” Six murmurs, and there’s almost a smile in her voice. A ghost of one, a promise of one. So, for now, Marina smiles for the both of them.


End file.
